Wine From Perusia IV
by greenfairy13
Summary: After the Age of Steel, the Doctor wants to take his relationship with Rose to the next level. A bottle of long forgotten wine cracks things up.
1. Chapter 1

Hallelujah! Halle-luuujah! HALLELUUUUUUUJAH!

Gathering each and every bit of his superior Time Lord willpower, the Doctor schools his expression into a sad, comforting mask. He congratulates himself on his outstanding acting skills, that cover his spinning head, and the sweet rush of euphoria running through his veins. Of course he tries to dampen his mood, tries chastising himself – but by Rassilon's luscious hair! The Doctor can't bring himself to his usual self-loathing.

Rickey (or Mickey?) has finally decided to leave Rose and the TARDIS behind to live a parallel life, in a parallel world, with his parallel grandmother. Well, the idiot certainly had a point when saying the Doctor would only be chasing Rose. Up to this point, the Time Lord believed doing a pretty good job at hiding his feelings for his pink and yellow companion, but if even Mickey could see through him...

Oh,whom is he kidding? He is deeply, madly, endlessly, hopelessly, head over heels in love with one Rose Tyler. So the Doctor wished Mickey the best of luck, while turning towards the TARDIS, and holding out his wiggling fingers towards the most magnificent human woman in the whole of creation.

Now he will have her all to himself again! Just the Doctor and Rose Tyler will be travelling among the stars as it should be, and she never wants it to end – _ever_!

After his little stunt with Reinette, that's a miracle in itself. Now is the time to confess his feelings, to tell her how much he needs her, wants her, craves her, lo-.

Biting his tongue and scratching his neck, the Doctor examines his face in the mirror. A man only gets so many chances, before the woman that has become his entire universe realises what a cowardly douche he is, and leaves for a braver man.

"Rose Tyler! I have recently gathered the impression you're very serious about your vow about staying with me forever, and I'd very much like to pick you up on it."

_Hmmm...that might be a bit too formal._

"Rose Tyler! Your eyes twinkle brighter than the biggest super-nova, your lips are like rose petals, and I could lose myself in the scent of your skin."

_That might be a tad bight cheesy._

"Rose Tyler! The next time I have to chose between your life, and the sake of the entire universe, the universe is properly fucked."

_Maybe a bit brutal..._

Sighing wearily, the Doctor walks back into the console-room to steady his beloved time-ship's course.

His Rose is still sitting on the jump-seat, looking sad and defeated. He doesn't like the tears glistening in her beautiful eyes, or the longing look upon her face. Instead, he wants her buzzing with energy, grinning at him with her tempting tongue caught between her teeth.

The Doctor's hungry gaze rakes over his precious girl's tantalizing body. She has just lost her best friend, and former lover, and right now, he shouldn't be thinking about her well toned legs, or her gorgeous breasts, or her sensual pink lips, or her tongue – oh this tongue! And he should definitely not think about how said tongue would feel in his mouth, or on his neck, or in his earlobe, or on his co-nope!

But how is a man supposed to think straight with Rose Tyler wearing such a flimsy excuse for clothing?! Honestly, she's begging for his superior Time Lord biology to jump to full attention. What with only being clad in this too short and too tight waitress uniform! Seriously, his magnificent brain is fully occupied with figuring out various ways how to get that dress off of her and his hands on her.

Shaking his head and snapping out of his haze, the Doctor realises Rose has been been looking at him for quite a while now. Her beautiful mouth is moving, forming syllables and words – to put it short: she's talking to him. Mentally kicking himself, he tries focussing on his best friend in the universe in a more appropriate way.

"Look at me, crying selfishly while I should be happy for Mickey," Rose finishes her speech, training her big, innocent eyes pleadingly at him.

Right! He should comfort her, consolidate her, be her solid rock, her shoulder to cry on.

"Hmmm..." the Doctor finally says eloquently, forcing his gaze away from her bare thighs. He knows he should give her a reply, but all he can think about is the fact, that Rose Tyler isn't wearing tights. Her skirt has ridden up, granting him a spectacular view on her bare legs and oh Rassilon! Will he soon discover the universe's most fascinating mystery? Will the secret of the colour of Rose Tyler's knickers be revealed?

"I mean, he will be happy there," Rose continues, oblivious to the Doctor's wandering eyes. "He's got his gran back, and he isn't around me any longer."

"WHAT?! Why should anyone not want to be around you?" the Doctor asks startled. The idea of not being around Rose has currently woken him from his reverie.

Blushing an adorable shade of pink, Rose sends the Doctor a smile holding the power to make him jump into a black hole.

"You know, life in the TARDIS was never meant for Mickey. I suppose having his granny back is best for him. New universe, new Mickey I suppose," Rose sighs.

"And you? Haven't you been tempted?" the Doctor asks hesitantly, and slightly afraid of the answer.

"Why would I?" Rose retorts, brow furrowed.

"You know: your father is alive, rich. Haven't you been thinking about how life in such a luxurious mansion would be for you? All these amenities..." He shrugs his shoulders defensively.

"No, I'd just wish for my mum that she'd be able to meet him. He's alive there, she's alive in our universe, and now they are both alone. No universe seems to make it right." Snuggling back into the jump-seat, Rose hugs her legs.

"But what about you? Wouldn't you want to have them both around you?" the Doctor can't help asking.

"Na, got everything I ever wanted and ever wanna have right in front of me," Rose replies absent-mindedly.

"Yeah? And what would that be?" he prompts, hiding a smirk behind the console.

"You," she answers. Cheeks heating up at the realisation of her answer, she jumps from the jump-seat, and runs out of the console-room, muttering something about taking a shower and changing her clothes.

"Nibbles!" the Doctor shouts frantically, before she can reach the exit. Like always in their sprouting relationship, a tender moment is being interrupted by one of them bolting from the room – this time, the Doctor wants to move them into a different direction.

"What?!" Rose asks startled.

"Nibbles!" he repeats, scooting an agitated hand through the strands of his hair. "I'll get us some snacks. You get changed and join me later." Beaming at his gorgeous pink treat like a loon, the Doctor turns towards the galley. "See you in the console-room!" he instructs her, waving his index finger around for emphasis.

He'd preferably run after her, snog her senseless and push her against the nearest coral strut – but that would be wrong, and not very romantic. His Rose definitely deserves some romance!

Therefore the Doctor walks swiftly into the kitchen to prepare dinner. Rummaging through various cupboards in search for Rose's favourite tidbits, he comes across a long forgotten bottle of wine.

The wine is a precious rarity from Perusia IV, which had been given to him (or nicked? The memory is a bit fuzzy on the details) after saving the Perusian's from the Sontaran empire back in his third body.

Taking a sip, the Doctor marvels at the exquisite taste. Enjoying the flavours slightly too much, he gulps down a glass – and then another. Without noticing, he downs almost the entire bottle, trying to remember why that wine should have been special enough to save it for so long.

When memory finally comes back, the colour drains from the Doctor's face.


	2. Chapter 2

Rubbing her face clean from make-up, Rose takes a deep, soothing breath. Recently it seems she has no control over her gob. Whenever the Doctor does something particularly adorable, or awkward, or brilliant, or sexy (which is more or less the case all the time) three little words beg to roll off her tongue.

"_I love you."_

Rose wants to say it all the time. She wants to say it, when he ruffles his hair. She wants to say it, when he clicks his tongue smugly against his teeth. She wants to say it, when he ties his tie in the morning. She wants to say it, whenever he takes her hand.

Groaning, she bites the inside of her cheek. He must never know the depth of her feelings. Rose firmly believes the Doctor doesn't reciprocate her sentiment. Today it became blatantly obvious again.

Now with Mickey gone, the Doctor would be free to make a move – but he doesn't want to make a move. He wants to put as much space between him and her as possible. The way he acted towards her after their return to the TARDIS speaks volumes. He could barely look at her, let alone talk to her. Rose only hopes he won't kick her outta the time-ship.

It's not like she's oblivious to his hints. First the Doctor showed Rose her place by introducing her to Sarah Jane. He left the woman behind without second thoughts, despite her infatuation with the Doctor. And then came Reinette. Gorgeous, clever, stunningly beautiful Reinette, and her up to now decidedly asexual alien suddenly excelled at kissing.

Rose is holding hands and gazing starry eyed at the Doctor for so long now, and sometimes he even seems to look at her with the same adoration – but he's holding her at arm's length. She knows now he'd be capable of a physical relationship, and even would enjoy it. Yet obviously he doesn't want to engage in a physical relationship with _her_.

Huffing, she puts on a plain white shirt that accentuates her curves quite nicely, and a pair of very short sweat pants. There's no harm in feeling sexy – even if nobody's around to appreciate her assets.

Tying her hair into a messy ponytail, she heads for the console-room. Rose only notices now, how famished she is. Hoping the hyperactive alien hasn't changed his mind about dinner, and is tinkering with the TARDIS again, she walks through the hallway.

"Doctor?" Rose queries softly. There's no response, and the console-room is empty. Frowning, she walks into the galley.

"Doctor?" she tries again, and again she's only greeted with silence.

The Time Lord's back is turned to her, his shoulders are pulled up, he's trembling slightly, and ragged breaths are being torn from his throat.

Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, and stroking down his arm softly, Rose asks, "Are you alright?"

He turns around so quickly, he almost knocks her over. There's a manic little light glistening merrily in his chocolate coloured eyes, and even for his standards he seems unusually twirly. "Why now, Rose Tyler? I'm always alright, molto bene, brilliant, fantastic, outstanding. I'm jubilant even, bursting from joy and energy! Have we ever been to Waltonis Disneya? Nope? There are Mickey Mouses in the shape of roller coasters. Wait! It's the other way around. Roller coasters in the form of Mickey Mouses – that's it! Do you want to drive through Mickey's navel?" He's gazing expectantly at her, but before Rose has a chance to answer, the Doctor carries on.

"I'd love to swirl my tongue around _your _navel, you know? I bet it is perfectly round!" He's beaming at her, looking every bit like delighted innocence personified.

Waving his finger around in the air, he says, "I'd scoot my tongue round and round the round of your navel." Bursting into a fit of giggles, the Doctor clutches the counter firmly with one hand, while holding his stomach with the other.

Pulling himself together, the Doctor reaches behind him and holds out a jar of marmalade to Rose. Too dumbfounded to react, she doesn't take the glass from him. Shrugging, he snatches a shortbread from the counter and dips it into the marmalade.

The shortbread crunches noisily beneath his teeth as he tucks in. He chews pensively for a while, eyes raking up and down Rose's body while doing so. "I wonder," he starts conversationally, "how the marmalade would taste, if I'd be licking it from your collar bone."

Staring at her with eyes round like saucers, he reaches out. Tracing the contour of her jawline with sticky fingers, he leaves a trail of blueberry jam on her fair skin.

"There!" He beams brightly. "Blueberry jam flavoured Rose." Looking every bit like a child at Christmas, the Doctor puts one of his long, slim digits in his mouth. Sliding it in and out leisurely, he gives Rose an impossibly filthy grin.

The young blonde's legs turn to jelly at his heated, smoldering gaze. The Doctor is now openly eyeing her chest, staring hungrily at the crevice between her breasts. A shiver ripples through her body, pebbling up her teats into hard, tight buds.

"Nipples!" he squeals in delight, almost falling over in his enthusiasm.

Sucking in a shuddering breath, Rose takes a step back. With her back to the wall giving her some hold, she feels less insecure. "Doctor, what's wrong?" she demands to know hesitantly.

"Wrong?" the Doctor asks, positively confused. Furrowing his brow in bewilderment, he turns round to look behind him. "Oh nibbles!" he shouts out, stuffing a chocolate covered strawberry into his mouth.

Rose shakes her head in annoyance. Of course she only misheard the bloody alien.

Pecking at the strawberry, he moans appreciatively. "Ohhhhhhhh, Rose! I _love _the taste of fresh berries!" Throwing his head back in ecstasy, he lets out a low moan. Scooting a hand through his hair, dishevelling his messy strands even more, he looks heavy-lidded at her.

Whatever game the Doctor is playing here – it's torture. That damn strawberry must be the best treat in the entire universe, and he's doing things to the fruit with his mouth, she wants him to do to her. A rush of wetness wets her knickers as Rose can't fight the passion curling low in her belly.

And then he shatters the last shreds of Rose's sanity. Licking each digit thoroughly clean, he asks her casually, "Rose, would you let me taste your berry?"

Not waiting for her response, he leans forward to lick the jam off of her. The flesh of his tongue is hot and wet against her throat. His teeth graze along her pulse point, as he nips gently at her skin. He blows cool air over her blazing skin, his hands grab her hips. Pulling her flush towards him, she comes into contact with something that might be his sonic screwdriver – though she's pretty certain she isn't misinterpreting what this _really_ is.

And then his hands are under her shirt, dancing over her ribcage, tracing the underline of her breasts. Grinding against him, Rose wants nothing more than feel him on every part of her skin, wants to feel him _inside _her – preferably now.

Whimpering helplessly, Rose fists her hands in the Doctor's shirt, not knowing, if she wants to push him away or pull him towards her. She knows there's something wrong with him. His eyes are blown wide, he's panting heavily and what's that smell? There's some sour scent hanging in the air around him, remembering her of...

"Doctor," she pants. "Doctor," Rose tries again, more determinedly this time. "Stop! You don't know what you're doing. You're _drunk_."

Releasing her, he takes a step back. Curling his mouth into an adorable pout, he looks at her like a kicked puppy. "Time Lords _do not _get drunk," he states with a huff. His gaze darkens as he takes in her rumpled form. Her shirt has ridden up, exposing her hipbones and her flat stomach to his lascivious stare.

"Yeah?" Rose can feel her temper flare. She won't allow the Doctor to shag her against the kitchen counter and then regret it, cause not being in his right mind. "Then why do you smell like Charlie Sheen on a Saturday night?" Arching an eyebrow, Rose waits for the Doctor's reply.

Considering her words for a moment, the Doctor smacks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Pheromones," he finally decides smugly. "You're emitting all sorts of pheromones, Rose Tyler. I _think_," he whispers conspiratorially, as if he'd reveal the biggest secret in the universe any second,"that you're _aroused_." Placing his hands on each side of her face, he traps her between his wiry body and the wall. "Don't tell me I'm wrong," he growls against her neck, sucking the last bit of jam from her neck, leaving a mark in the process.

"This jam tastes _much _better eaten from your skin," he moans, grinding his rock hard length against her thigh. "Whenever I slide my _long_ fingers into a jar of jam, I'm thinking about sliding them into your hot, tight heat."

Closing her eyes, the caged woman gulps. She can feel her face heating up and her nipples pucker to the point of pain, as she gives in to the sensations washing over her. She'll just enjoy this for a second, before pushing him away. She can't let this happen, not like this. But oh! It just feels too good.

Dropping his head, the Doctor engulfs the little nub through the fabric of her shirt, drenching _another _piece of Rose's clothing in the process. "Whenever I'm eating strawberries," he keens, "I'm thinking about rolling your nipples between my teeth."

With one swift movement he disposes Rose's shirt, revealing her bare breasts. "I want to taste every inch of you," he shares, peppering her chest with soft kisses. "I want to wrap your legs around my shoulders, want to thrust my tongue into your dripping core and suck you, until you scream my name so loud the entire galaxy hears it."

Tugging down her sweat pants, the Doctor slides one slender digit into her aching core, and Rose lets out a strangled sob of pleasure.

"Do you want to taste me too, Rose? Would you wrap that pink tongue of yours around my cock? Would you swipe it over the tip of my length? Roll my balls between these lovely fingers of yours?"

Curling his finger in a come hither motion, he strokes the rough spot deep inside her. His calloused thumb is meanwhile busy rubbing tight circles on her swollen nub.

"Doctor," Rose breathes out throatily.

"I like how you say my name," he smirks, doubling his efforts. "I want you to ride my hand, to lose yourself in the pleasure I'm granting you."

"Doctor, please," she sobs hoarsely.

"Yes, beg for me! Let me tie you to the console with my ties, let me take you to the brink over and over again, until you plead with me to let you finally come." His other hand squeezes her bum tightly enough to leave his fingerprints on her.

"Stop!" Rose finally shouts, and at last the Doctor looks at her. His gaze is unfocused, sweat is standing out on his forehead, his double hearts are beating in a frantic rhythm.

"Rose, I'm not feeling well," he grinds out through gritted teeth before passing out.


	3. Chapter 3

Blinking the lazily, the Doctor drifts back to consciousness. Stretching, he enjoys the feel of his soft pin-striped pyjamas against his bare skin. He truly loves his pin-striped pyjamas – Rose gave them to him, and her first gift for this new body of his, might or might not have been the reason for choosing a pin-striped suit. It's been a while since he slept properly, and being that relaxed, truly feels marvellous.

On top of that he just had a wonderful dream. He had been in the galley with Rose, fooling around with a jar of marmalade, liking the treat off of her flawless skin. His beautiful pink and yellow human had been moaning and gasping his name in rapt pleasure. The Doctor can still feel the soft moulds of her breasts against his chest.

Yawning and stretching again, his right hand scoots down his muscular chest. Closing his eyes, he envisions Rose's soft, small hand sliding down the length of his body. Oh how he wishes she'd wake up with him every morning! Wouldn't it be glorious, if he could stroke her smooth back right now? Kiss her pliant lips? Lose himself in the depth of her honey-coloured eyes? Grind his aching length against her firm bum?

Unable and unwilling to ignore the building pressure between his legs any longer, the Doctor strokes his swollen cock lightly. How would Rose's hot fingers probably feel wrapped around his length?

Moaning, he lets his head loll back against the pillows and presses more firmly against his palm. Spreading his legs, the Doctor encircles his hardness, gives himself an experimental pump. Envisioning Rose sitting on his aching cock, he fists himself and starts thrusting. His pelvis rolls restlessly as he chases his high, his thumb swipes over the tip, once, twice. He imagines Rose shouting his name in ecstasy, as hot, viscous seed spurts over his fingers and stomach.

Opening his eyes, the Doctor takes in the sticky mess he made. Sighing, he looks up, only to look right into the face of a very stunned Rose. The beautiful blonde has just opened the door, a tray with tea and scones in her hands.

Letting out a very un-Time-Lord-y squeak, and blushing beet-red, he swiftly pulls the blankets over his head. Mortification rushes through his veins like liquid fire. His double-hearts are galloping at such speed, he's certain they'll escape his ribcage any second and force him to regenerate.

Oh Rassilon! What did he do? Silently begging the TARDIS to open a hole in the floor and swallowing him together with the bed, last night's memories come rushing back. Suddenly there's a sour taste in his mouth – it's not the Perusian vine welling up from the depths of his stomach but shame. He now remembers liking the marmalade of Rose's neck, his hands removing her shirt and pants, his filthy words...Good Gods he doesn't believe in! He almost forced himself upon her!

Horrified about his actions, the Doctor's throat escapes a strangled cry. Rose is here to leave him, to tell him how utterly disgusting he is, and he'll never see her lovely face again. Crawling deeper into the duvet, and curling up into a tiny ball, he waits for her to start screaming, to tell him what a monster he is. He can't breath as the fear takes him, envelopes his entire being.

It's silent in the room. The Doctor can only hear his ragged breaths and the rustle of the blankets. He's startled as the bed dips beside him. A throat is being cleared, and then he hears Rose's soft, concerned voice query, "Doctor?" She takes a deep breath. "Doctor, I'm sorry." He can feel her hand encircling his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'll leave now," she tells him, as she stands up, taking the warmth emanating from her body with her.

That was it, he thinks. That has been the final straw, and now she'll walk outta his TARDIS for good, never to return again.

"Please don't," the Doctor mumbles hoarsely into the pillow.

"What?" He can hear her feet on the carpet. She's standing still, not out of the room _yet_.

She swallows. "I think it would be better...," his golden princess stammers out and his hearts stop. He can practically see her in front of his inner eye: the woman he loves is afraid – of _him_. "Would you look at me, Doctor?" she finally pleas.

"No," he forces out, feeling salty tears well up in his eyes. Any second now, she'll demand to be brought home.

"Please," Rose tries again.

"I can't look at you."

"I gathered as much," she replies bitterly.

"I'll take you home – just don't..." The Doctor's voice cracks.

"Look at me!" she snaps desperately.

"Don't make me," he mumbles weakly in response. "I couldn't stand it, if I saw the hatred in your face. Let me have this...I don't...I know I deserve it, but don't let my last memory of you being how you punish me with disgust."

Rose hisses, as she takes in a sharp breath, and silence falls again. He hears her taking three determined steps, and the bed dips again under her weight. He stiffens – of course he doesn't deserve her grace. The Doctor's breathing stops – just a second, and she'll pull the blanket away and let the fire of her rage rain down upon him

"I could _never _hate you," she finally whispers affectionately into his ear through the blanket.

And then she's there.

Pressing herself close to his back, Rose encircles his waist with one arm, putting the other soothingly on his shoulder. She's still above the duvet, and he's still safely hidden, but he can feel the heat radiating from her body, her laboured breathing against his ear, the beating of her single heart against his back.

"I don't want to go," she finally confesses. And Rassilon! She sounds so broken, defeated. Knowing he's the cause of her despair, the Doctor's heart clenches. "Why do you want me to leave?" she demands to know.

"Don't want you to leave," he replies. "I just thought after what I did yesterday," he stutters out.

"I tried to stop you. You got to believe me, I would have never taken advantage of you."

"Of _me_!" he squeaks. "Rose, I almost ra-"

"No!" she interrupts him sharply. "You would have never. I trust you, I _love _you." Snapping her mouth shut with an audible click, Rose stiffens beside him.

The Doctor's mind is blissfully blank, as his impressive Time Lord brain goes into overdrive. Not only Rose wants to stay, she even _loves _him.

_She loves me._

_She loves me._

_She loves me._

The Doctor chants these three words over and over in his head.

"Right." Rose swallows heavily and starts crawling off the bed.

"Where are you going?" Without thinking for too long, the Doctor peeks out from under his covers, not caring that he must look every bit like an electrified mole.

Staring intently at the floor, his beautiful blonde mumbles something incoherently. Even with his superior hearing the Doctor can't make out her exact words, but it sounds very much like "know you don't me".

"Come here," he begs softly. Wiggling his fingers, he winces when realising he's holding up his sticky, right hand. "What makes you think that?" he queries cautiously.

"You won't even look at me like _this_ without being drunk," she whispers in response.

"I wasn't drunk," the Doctor contradicts firmly.

Pulling up her shoulders and twisting her fingers Rose argues, "That's not true! You wouldn't even look or talk to me yesterday and then...BAM!"

"Time Lords don't get drunk!" he huffs. "I had a bottle of Perusian wine – has an interesting effect on my biology," he adds as an afterthought, face heating up.

"It made you horny?" Rose offers, arching an eyebrow.

"Iwasalreadyhorny," he rushes out, pulling the blanket over his head again.

"What?"

"I was already horny!" he shouts out from under his hiding place. Rose is obviously taken aback, for she doesn't reply. "I couldn't think straight with you wearing that...that _uniform_. That's why I couldn't look at you or talk to you. I was three seconds away from hauling myself at you," he mumbles in embarrassment. "That's no behaviour for a Time Lord."

"Then what did the wine do?" Rose demands to know.

"It removed my filter," he groans.

"Filter?" she echoes incredulously. "Are you trying to tell me your gob usually has a filter?"

"Believe it or not: YES!" he admits. "It made me speak out every thought that crossed my mind – and then you emitted all these lovely pheromones and I just wanted to act out on them," he moans. "Rose, I'm so sorry. That wasn't how I planned it. I wanted to make you dinner, light some candles – you know, all that human-y, romantic stuff," he moans.

"But Reinette and Sarah Jane..." she stammers, still uncertainly.

"Coward, remember?" The Doctor shrugs under his duvet. "I thought it would be easier, if you'd just leave – and then I got terrified you'd really leave and...I'm making this all wrong," he murmurs.

"Doctor, look at me," Rose orders gently.

"No!"

"Please, come out there."

"No!"

"If you never come out there," she starts cheekily, "I'll have to get in there."

And with these words she's under the duvet with him, sliding smoothly underneath, with the determination of a woman who knows exactly where she belongs.

Suddenly everything is Rose. Her lovely, pink lips are pressed to his, her chest is flush against his body, her hands cup his face lovingly and her scent makes his head spin.

The Doctor can't believe this is really happening. None of them is in danger of dying or possessed by some entity – it's just them and it's perfect.

Gasping, he opens his mouth to grant her entrance. The wet flesh of her tongue slides leisurely along the roof of his mouth, her teeth nip his bottom-lip playfully as her short nail scratch his sideburns slightly. She's taking her sweet time as she peppers his eyes, nose and cheeks with kisses.

Panting, he marvels in the feel of having her this close, of finally giving in to the depth of his feelings for the woman who saved him from his inner demons.

Encircling her waist, he flips them over so he's on top of her. Pulling away, he takes a good look at his treasure. Her hair is fanned out over his pillow, her cheeks are flushed, her eyes twinkle merrily – she's the most stunning sight in the entire universe.

"You're beautiful," he whispers in awe, before diving for her neck and trailing kisses along her collar bone.

"For a human," she retorts giggling, for his tongue and teeth tickle her delicate skin.

"For any standard," he murmurs against her stomach, smoothing his hands over the swell of her belly.

Unwilling to wait any longer, he peels her shirt off. In a fit of insecurity, Rose covers her breasts from his greedy eyes.

Pushing the duvet off of them and straddling her lap, the Doctor entwines their fingers. "No hiding," he almost growls. "You've already seen all of me, my _turn_," he whispers huskily against her earlobe, eliciting a needy shiver.

"I haven't.." she starts.

"Oh, don't deny it," he winks. "Who changed my clothes at Christmas? Or last night? You wouldn't willingly do that so often, if you didn't like what you saw," he adds smugly and Rose blushes even further. "And I definitely like what I see." Pausing, he gazes down at her lovingly, before a mischievous smirk curls the corners of his mouth. "In fact," he says, lowering his voice, "I like it so much, I need to taste it ."

With that the Doctor leans down for another kiss, while his adept fingers dance down to the edge of Rose's shorts. Distracting her with his agile tongue, he flicks open the button and starts wrestling the garment from her well-toned legs. When his arm isn't long enough, he helps matters along with his toes.

She squeaks when noticing the Doctor has managed to undress her that easily. Yet before her insecurities can resurface, he already takes one of her perfectly rounded mounds into his mouth. Sucking and licking, he makes his way down her body, until he finally reaches her centre. She's gasping and writhing underneath him, enjoying the feel of his fingers and tongue exploring every bit of her body.

"You're perfect," he assures her, before his mouth closes over her swollen, tiny bud. His tongue dives forward, where she's already wet for him and he savours each and every salty drop. Adding his forefinger into her tight heat, he's got her on the edge in no time. Her legs snap shut around his head, holding him in a tight grip as her fingers curl into the strands of his hair. "Impatient?" he giggles against her aching centre, the reverberations making Rose moan in pleasure.

Releasing her with a wet pop, the Doctor starts shucking his clothes at lightning speed. Rose's eyes roam over his lean, wiry body and her eyes widen, as she takes in his hard, swollen cock.

"Impressed?" He arches an eyebrow.

In response, her hands dart out to stroke him from base to tip and all cheek is forgotten, as he lets out a needy hiss. Getting up on her knees, she captures his lips for a deep kiss, keeping a steady rhythm with her hand. The Doctor's breathing falters, and his self-control snaps.

"Rose, I need you," he pants out, begs even.

"Then have me."

With a growl he covers her body with his own, settles his hard length between her thighs. Teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock, he looks down at her. "I...," Words fail him at the sight of the gorgeous, willing woman underneath him. With one quick thrust he plunges, buries himself into her and gives up on his doubts.

"I know," she whispers as he sets up a deep, steady rhythm. Rose is already so close and as she clutches his bum, pulls him even closer into her, his moves start getting erratic. He wants to lose himself in her, wants to draw out this moment forever, get as deep under her skin as possible.

Pulling her leg around his slim waist, he penetrates her further. Her walls clench around him, squeeze his length until he has no choice but spilling his semen into her womb.

They both fall into a blissful sleep afterwards and when they awake, nothing is the same as it was before – it's better. Done pretending, the Doctor and Rose would never let go of each other again.


End file.
